Riding In Cars With Boys
by sbrianson
Summary: Didn't your mother ever tell you never to go riding in cars with boys? Remus finds out the hard way what happens to those who do when he goes riding with Sirius one day... Slash.


"Riding In Cars With Boys"

**Pairing**: Remus Lupin / Sirius Black

**Rating**: "M" – for language and sexual content.

**Dedication**: To Sarah, who _did_ go riding in cars with boys; and to Maisy, who makes people very glad that she did…

**Disclaimer**: This story is fictional – that's F-I-C-T-I-O-N. It never happened, and is not real. It is the product of my own imagination. It contains descriptions of male slash (that's male/male homosexual relations). If you do not like this type of content, or if you find homosexuality or its practice offensive, please click the "Back" button or close your Internet browser NOW, and do not read any further. All characters and copyrights are owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers™ (AOL Time Warner), but this story is owned by me and is all my own work.

**Author's Notes**:

A "Laundry" refers to a Magdalene Laundry – a laundrette service institution run by a Holy Order of Nuns, where "sinful girls and women" (especially those who fell pregnant out of wedlock) would be sent as a punishment. They would work all day for no pay, and be regularly beaten; and it was almost impossible to leave. A popular punishment during the '50s and '60s, the last Magdalene Laundry thankfully closed in 1996.

The RUC was the Royal Ulster Constabulary, the police force of Northern Ireland during the time that this story is set. Often a very nasty piece of work, it is perhaps fortunate that they no longer exist today.

"The Guards" refers to An Garda Síochána, the police force of the Republic of Ireland.

* * *

Ma had always told him never to take girls out for rides in his car. Good boys _never_ take young girls for rides in their cars. The thought of his Auntie Bernie would remind him again and again, should he become confused over this matter – well… just look at her _now_. Yes, Auntie Bernie would tell anybody who would still listen to her never to go riding in cars with boys. But what the Hell would _she_ know? Bernadette Maloney had never married, had spent the last twenty-two years working in a Laundry, and had never even seen her baby, who had been sent away to live somewhere in America. Well, that's what became of young girls who went riding in cars with boys… 

Growing up in County Monaghan had its effect on people in ways Remus could scarcely imagine at times. Particularly the girls. Living in a house sitting randomly in the middle of nowhere in the very North of the County, he was constantly frustrated – at just seventeen, there was nothing that he could really _do_. Sure, he was of age in the _Wizarding_ world, but out here in Ireland where his parents lived like Muggles, there was fuck all to do. He couldn't drive a car (well, he was _old enough_ to, but he'd never been taught and didn't have a car to drive, anyway), and there wasn't really anywhere within walking distance, except…

Remus could see the next town over from his bedroom window. Middletown. He'd always fancied going over, just to be nosey and see what was there. But that would mean _Crossing The Border_. And _Crossing The Border_ into Northern Ireland was something that you _did…not…do…_ Something that Remus _certainly_ did not do; not on his own, anyway. The North had become a very scary place for a young lad such as Remus. In fact, the North had become a very scary place for _everyone_. Its strange RUC Officers terrified him senseless; they weren't like the helpful and friendly Guards that he saw walking around near his house sometimes. And the people at the checkpoints tended to ask some really _personal_ questions a lot of the time. So taking a walk up to Middletown wasn't even an option as far as he was concerned.

But he _did _have one thing, one _escape_ from the boring humdrum of the summer holidays…

Sirius.

Sirius, now he was of age and had bought himself a flat, now lived… well, he wasn't quite _sure_ where he lived, now that you mention it. But it was somewhere in County Armagh. You didn't ask too many questions of those from the North, not in 1978. But even though, as Da put it, he was now "a Northern Joe from England", he was still very much welcome in the Lupin house. After all, he and Remus were good friends from school; had been for some six years or so. He was always granted permission to go with Sirius whenever the handsome, dark-haired lad knocked on the door. "Just as long," Ma would say, "that you don't take the girls out riding in cars."

Yes, Sirius was just a good friend, as far as Ma and Da were concerned. But if they only knew what Sirius _really_ was to him…

Today had been no exception. After he kissed his Ma goodbye, and he and Sirius bade farewell to Fr. Connelly (who had popped by to catch up with his gossip whilst out riding his bicycle), they walked casually round the corner, to where Sirius had hidden his motorbike in a nearby field. It wasn't that there was anything _wrong_ per se with him riding a motorbike, but Ma didn't really approve of such things. When she'd asked him once about how he got to their house, Sirius had told her that he'd Apparated. Ma understood all about matters like this – though she herself was a Muggle, her husband was a Wizard, and you couldn't be married to a Wizard without picking up at least a little terminology from the Wizarding community.

Remus had never been on a motorbike before. Whenever Sirius called for him, they used to just walk around the hills and find a nice, secluded spot where they could hold hands and kiss. He grew excited when Sirius informed him that he was taking him riding that afternoon, feeling a little rebellious, even. As he mounted the big black and silver contraption, Remus thought back to his mother's stern advice; that one should never go riding in cars with boys. But Sirius wasn't taking him for a ride in a _car_, he was taking him for a ride on a _motorbike_, and _that_ was completely different! Good boys don't go riding in cars with girls. Good, respectable boys don't go riding in cars _at all_, and of course Mrs Lupin had brought up her son to be a good, respectable boy. But Mrs Lupin had never said anything about riding on _motorbikes_ with boys…

* * *

It had been one of Sirius's nicer plans, having a quiet little picnic in the hills, with not a soul nearby for miles around. But that was the lovely thing about going out with Sirius Black – he was such an old romantic at heart! Sirius had spoken of all the things that he wanted to do with Remus before they returned to school next month; that he wanted to take him to Armagh City, where they could have a cup of coffee in a café… To Monaghan itself, where they could have a half-pint of stout, because Sirius looked eighteen and could get served at the bar… To his flat, so that Remus could finally see where he lived… Remus giggled; it was a lovely sound, seeming to float up into the air and hang around them before floating away over the fields. Sirius said that he wanted to put the giggle into a glass bottle, to capture it forever, so that he could listen to it any time that he wanted. Remus grinned – it was nice to feel wanted and loved by someone who wasn't a parent. Plus the glass of champagne he had drunk (none for Sirius, he was driving) had gone to his head and was making him feel a little bit fuzzy.

They kissed. This was always Remus's favourite part of their clandestine meetings. He could do this forever! Oh, he knew that it was sinful, and Fr. Connelly would probably fry him up into a prime steak and feed it to his dog if he knew, but whenever Sirius kissed him, he always felt that he would never stop, _could_ never stop, until the end of time itself. Kissing Sirius back as hard as he could, he ran his hands all over Sirius's leather jacket. He loved its texture – how it was hard yet soft, with such a wonderfully _crinkly_ feel to it.

But suddenly, everything was different somehow. He felt Sirius moan inside his mouth, and Sirius's hands slipped lower and lower, so that eventually they were caressing not his back and shoulders, but his backside. And then they started to rub in between his legs. This was something new – Sirius had never tried to _touch_ Remus before. He thought to tell Sirius to stop it, but those hands felt far too _good_, and he let the thought dwindle. Sirius, in the meantime, gently pulled one of Remus's hands forward and placed it over his own groin.

The kiss deepened, and soon Remus found himself falling gently backwards so that he now lay on his back. Sirius fell on top of him, straddling him, grinding his hips into Sirius's own. God, this felt amazing! Remus idly wondered why they had never done this before! Sirius reached down and began to unbuckle Remus's belt, undoing his fly, pulling his trousers and underpants down, promising that this would feel even _better_. Sirius undid his own trousers, and soon they were grinding into each other again; this time, their exposed, inflamed penises rubbing against each other.

Sirius had not lied. It _did_ feel better.

_Much_ better…

Stars danced in front of Remus's eyes. There was a delicious pressure between his legs, like a tight bubble waiting to burst. His breathing became very rapid and shallow, and all he could do was to speed up the grinding – almost slamming – of his hips into Sirius's. Sirius chuckled and grinned.

"Good boy, Moony! Come for Padfoot! That's it!" he whispered into his ear. Remus gave a great moan, and suddenly the bubble of pressure _did_ burst. He felt a warm, sticky sensation spread around his groin and cried out. That had _certainly_ never happened to him while kissing Sirius before! But still, Sirius did not stop kissing him or grinding his pelvis into Remus.

Suddenly, Sirius sat up. Remus felt his legs rise up, and Sirius relaxed back down on top of him. He felt something warm and hard rubbing against his backside. It felt nice, but all of a sudden the warm thing started to push, harder and harder until it suddenly slipped up all the way inside him; and while Sirius let out a long, lustful groan, Remus screamed. A sharp, piercing pain shot through his entire body; it felt as if it wasn't Sirius's _penis_ that had been pushed inside him, but a white-hot, burning _fire-poker_. That was it – Sirius was lighting matches and pushing them up his back passage! His arse was _on fire_, and the boy, leather-clad and weighing down on top of him, was doing nothing but fanning the flames. Suddenly, he finally understood what all the fuss was about; why Ma, and Auntie Bernie, and all the matriarchal females from back home had always said that one should never go riding in cars with boys. And he added in his mind, that one should never go riding on motorbikes with boys either. He had become one of those "sluts" that Ma was always telling him about. All of her stern lectures about what boys do, where they take the girls in the back seats of their cars and down dark alleyways. And now, Remus had been… _taken_. He had been deflowered, he was impure…

But a few moments later the pain started to slowly fade away, and Remus leant in for another kiss. As Sirius started to thrust, oh so slowly, in and out of him, and the pain, now dull and throbbing and all the time diminishing, began to melt into a new feeling, a feeling which felt… nice… And when these new warm and tickly sensations began to haze around his mind, Remus decided that he didn't really care any more. He was making love. Having sex. Shagging. Being – as he had heard his Da say whilst telling his friends a dirty anecdote whilst Ma was out of the room – fucked into oblivion and moaning like a whore…

…and he liked it.

_He liked it!_

And all of the holier-than-thou, thrice-weekly Communicants could go and shove their harsh warnings and stern advice up their… well, up somewhere private! Because _surely_ something that felt this good couldn't be wrong? They'd been wrong about two boys kissing and holding hands, hadn't they? So who was to say that they weren't wrong about this, as well? Moreover, what would they _know_ about it all, anyway? Well, except for Auntie Bernie… well at least she actually _knows_ what she's talking about! After all, girls who go riding in cars with boys get into trouble, get hurt, and get labelled names which accurately describe the whores that they have become. That's what Ma had always said. And maybe she _was_ right. But to be fair, she had never once said anything about what happened to _boys_ who go riding in cars with boys…


End file.
